


every single i thing i have

by joshllyman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Dragon Akaashi, Dragons, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Warrior Bokuto, high fantasy meets modern bureaucracy, it doesn't occur in the story itself it's just described, referred to in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28139100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: There’s no bell on the door to announce his arrival, but the man behind the counter looks up from his book right away. Even from a distance, Bokuto can feel the weight of his gaze as the shopkeeper looks him up and down. He slips the glasses from his nose and onto the counter as he stands.“Welcome, traveller,” he says, and the way his silken voice travels across the store pushes the last thoughts of the siren from Bokuto’s mind. “Do you require assistance today?”“Uh,” says Bokuto eloquently.***Bokuto needs protection that only Akaashi can provide, but in order to get it, he'll need to make an even trade.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 24
Kudos: 94





	every single i thing i have

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Corn! I really hope you like this piece <3

MONDAY:

From the outside, the shop is unassuming. A little hidden even—crammed in a plaza between a shiny new electronics big box store and a siren bar. Even in the early afternoon, Bokuto can hear crooning from inside and has to fight his base instincts to veer off in the direction of that sweet voice. He shakes his head, trying to shake the influence. He’s here for a reason, and it has nothing to do with wasting the rest of his day yearning for something he can’t have.

Well. Not in a bar, anyway.

He steels himself, taking a deep breath as he surveys the shop again. Ivy grows over the sign for Akaashi’s Antiquities and Artifacts, evidence that it’s been here much longer than any of the surrounding establishments. If the rumors are true, and the Akaashi in question really is a dragon, it may well be the oldest shop for miles around. Dragons can live to be thousands of years old. The thought sends a shiver down Bokuto’s spine. But he is strong, and he knows what he wants—no dragon will stand in the way of his prize.

Before traditional combat, he would give a mighty battle cry. But there’s a little old woman coming out of the electronics store clutching a laptop to her chest, and he doesn’t know if she bought the accidental coverage plan. He settles for clearing his throat before making his way across the parking lot.

There’s no bell on the door to announce his arrival, but the man behind the counter looks up from his book right away. Even from a distance, Bokuto can feel the weight of his gaze as the shopkeeper looks him up and down. He slips the glasses from his nose and onto the counter as he stands.

“Welcome, traveller,” he says, and the way his silken voice travels across the store pushes the last thoughts of the siren from Bokuto’s mind. “Do you require assistance today?”

“Uh,” says Bokuto eloquently.

The shopkeeper gives him the slightest smile. He’s intimidatingly pretty, even dressed in a simple black ribbed turtleneck and a pair of gray slacks. Bokuto feels parched. But he came here for a reason. He closes his eyes, focusing his mind as his feet carry him forward.

“Are you Akaashi Keiji?” he asks as he approaches the front of the store.

“It depends on who’s asking.”

“Bokuto Koutarou.” He’s reached the counter. Up closer, he can see the shopkeeper’s eyes are gunmetal blue, and icy cold. They pierce Bokuto’s skin as readily as a sword. “I seek protection.”

“You are very likely in the right place, Bokuto-san,” says the man. He still hasn’t confirmed his name. “What do you seek protection from?”

Bokuto shifts on his feet. “I am a warrior who desires the finest protection in battle.”

The shopkeeper raises an eyebrow. “I don’t sell potions, Bokuto-san, but you are welcome to peruse my collection of amulets. I’ve been traded quite a few over the years.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “I don’t want anything temporary.”

He feels once again the heavy weight of the shopkeeper’s eyes on him, trying to size him up. Bokuto gets the distinct feeling that he’s being analyzed for weaknesses and he tries not to fidget.

“What, exactly, do you want?” the man asks. “Be specific, if you please.”

Bokuto takes another steadying breath. “The scale of a dragon.”

The smile falls away from the man’s lips. “Such an item would be incredibly rare, and unimaginably valuable,” he says. “What makes you think I would keep one laying about?”

Bokuto’s heart pounds against his ribcage. “You never gave me your name.”

Tension hangs thick in the air between them, thick enough that Bokuto feels like he has to  _ force _ air to circulate through his lungs. The shopkeeper regards him for a long moment, and Bokuto can’t read the expression on his face. Then he picks up his glasses, replaces them on his nose, and sits back down on the little wooden stool.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you after all, Bokuto-san,” says the shopkeeper with a deep sigh. He sounds truly regretful as he goes back to reading his book. “Good day to you.”

Bokuto feels a rush of disappointment. Feeling he didn’t realize he’d lost returns to his fingers, and he slowly unclenches them from the fists they’d been balled into.

“Damn,” he sighs, sagging against the counter. “I don’t know where else to go.”

“The traditional method for obtaining a dragon scale is to slay one and skin its hide, is it not?” drones the keep without looking up from his book.

Bokuto grimaces. “If I wanna go to jail the rest of my life, sure.”

“Actions have consequences,” the man says with a shrug. “It’s the only way to be certain you get what you want.”

Bokuto thinks about the five hundred year old peace accords. “Um. I think not, but thanks for the advice.”

“Suit yourself, I suppose.” He flips a page in his book before looking back up at Bokuto with furrowed brows. “What do you need protection against that an amulet won’t do for you, anyway? If you have no intention of fighting a dragon, surely there is no need for anything other than your standard protection charm.”

Bokuto’s fingers play with the hem of his shirt. “The world’s a dangerous place these days.”

The lovely smile finally returns to the shopkeeper’s face, just that slight, pleasant curve of his mouth. “You assume I know nothing of the dangers of the world.”

“You’re a shopkeeper,” Bokuto reasons. “I’ve traveled most of the known world. Our experiences aren’t the same.”

The man stands once again, setting his book aside and placing his hands palm down on the counter. “There are treasures older than either you or me in this shop, Bokuto-san,” he says. He leans in; Bokuto can’t help but match him. “Treasures from every corner of the world, from civilizations long gone. Treasures pilfered and stolen and fought over and lost and found again. Perhaps I have not travelled, but I assure you, I understand well the ways of the world beyond my door.”

By the time he’s done speaking, his nose is only centimeters from Bokuto’s own. Their breath mingles in the space between their bodies. The man behind the counter is so beautiful from far away, but even more so up close. His long lashes cover eyes that are speckled with gray, and his skin is like porcelain. Bokuto licks his lips.

“Have you ever killed a man, Bokuto-san?” the shopkeeper murmurs.

Slowly, Bokuto nods. The keeper’s face remains impassive. “But I never attack first. It’s always in self-defense.”

The man hums, seeming to approve. “Very honorable. Perhaps, then, I have more blood on my hands than you do.”

Bokuto is stunned as the man straightens up and goes back to his stool and his book. For a moment, he’s lost, unsure how to proceed, until the shopkeeper stretches his neck just a hair to look down at his book with a frown on his face. It shifts the neck of his sweater, which reveals a small patch of grey scales previously hidden. He gasps, and the noise causes the keeper—the dragon—to look up at him.

“You are Akaashi Keiji,” Bokuto whispers.

Akaashi’s hand goes to his neck, where he realizes what he’s exposed. With his other hand, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I won’t be giving you any of my scales, Bokuto-san,” he says, his voice tight. “I’d like you to leave the establishment now.”

“I—I’ll pay anything you like,” Bokuto says, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “Any amount of money, I’ll get it.”

Akaashi looks up at him with annoyance written into his features. “There is no amount of money worth removing a body part for a stranger.”

Bokuto cocks his head. “It doesn’t hurt you, does it?”

“Whether it does or not is irrelevant, as I won’t be doing it,” Akaashi replies. “Go away now, Bokuto-san.”

“Wait—Akaashi-san, please,” Bokuto pleads. “Please, I really need it. I would be forever indebted to you—”

“Yes, you would,” Akaashi snaps. “And there is no human coin you could pay to offset that debt, so please cease asking. Go now or I’ll report you for trespassing.”

He hops off the stool angrily and it topples to the ground with a bang as he retreats into the back part of the store. Bokuto watches him go and feels his heart sink down into his stomach. He’s ruined his one chance at getting the protection he needs. The wound in his side twinges.

He turns and walks out of the shop with head hung low.

***

TUESDAY:

For what it’s worth, it wasn’t Bokuto’s idea to come back to the shop.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Bokuto says for what feels like the twentieth time. 

Kuroo hauls the shield out of the trunk with a grunt and shoves it into Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto takes the weight from him, leaving him panting and glaring at him.

“We’re here now,” Kuroo declares between deep breaths. “Too late to back out. You’re a badass, you’ve got this. Now shut up and go get your scale.”

Bokuto worries at his lip but doesn’t respond. He leads Kuroo across the parking lot, past the electronics store and into Akaashi’s Antiquities and Artifacts (if there’s a siren performing in the bar today, he doesn’t even hear it).

Akaashi is sitting on the stool once again, today sporting a cream colored cardigan with a tall neck and brown slacks, and looks up at their arrival. Immediately he glares at them.

“I regret to inform you that I have the police on speed dial,” he says.

Bokuto looks at Kuroo as if to say “told you so,” only to discover Kuroo isn’t beside him at all. He spins and peers back out the door; Kuroo is hauling it over to the siren bar.

“Damn it,” Bokuto curses. He turns back to Akaashi. “Listen, this wasn’t my idea.”

Akaashi offers him a thin smile. “Some friend you’ve got there.”

“He’s normally much cooler than that,” Bokuto sighs. He moves into the shop, careful to avoid hitting anything with the shield. When he reaches the counter, he sets it down and keeps it steady with a knee to the wood. “I guess I should have warned him about the neighbors.”

“I’m afraid I lose many customers to the allure of the siren call,” Akaashi says. He puts a finger in his book and closes it. “I am serious about having you forcibly removed from the premises if you’ve come to bargain with me for one of my scales.”

Bokuto scratches the back of his head. “Like I said, it was Kuroo’s idea.”

Akaashi narrows his eyes. 

“Let me just tell you about it,” Bokuto says quickly. “Since I hauled it all the way in here.”

They stare at each other. Akaashi doesn’t say anything at all, nor does his face change from the neutral aggression it’s settled into. Bokuto takes this as his hint to continue.

“I won it on my last journey,” he says, tapping the top of the shield. “I traveled all the way to the lands of Karasuno and fought a mighty warrior, the so-called Guardian Deity of the land.”

“Wouldn’t a flight have taken you there in a few short hours?” Akaashi drones.

Bokuto frowns. “I mean, yeah, but then it doesn’t count for the Book of Records, does it?”

“I wouldn’t know, as I am neither human nor a warrior, nor have I ever been interested in such trivialities.”

“Okay, well, anyway. When I bested him in combat, he offered me this, his most valuable possession. It has the strength of a hundred men charmed into it, but to its owner, it’s feather light.” He lifts it to demonstrate. “It’s said to be one of the most well-crafted shields in modern fighting, with enough protection to keep even the most haphazard user safe.”

Akaashi’s lips twitch. “Bokuto-san, have you not come here seeking protection?”

“I have.”

“And you can’t use the shield because…?”

“Oh. I use a greatsword. Two-handed.” He sets the shield down to demonstrate, curling both fists around an imaginary handle.

“I see.” Akaashi looks back to his book long enough to reference the page number before setting it aside. “I’m afraid I can’t accept your offer, Bokuto-san. Your shield offers me no more value than your money does.”

Bokuto sighs and looks up at the ceiling before an idea occurs to him. He looks back at Akaashi with a grin. “Okay, but you haven’t seen it in action, right? We could step out into the parking lot, loosen our legs a bit, one-on-one.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow at him. “There are two problems with your plan, Bokuto-san. The first is that transforming into a fully-fledged dragon in a zoned township will get me fined at best and jailed at worst.”

“You can fight in human form, can’t you?”

“Perhaps, but there we arrive at the second problem. I don’t want to.”

Bokuto grimaces. “Please?”

Akaashi shakes his head and picks his book back up. “A valiant effort, sir knight, but you have not convinced me. Perhaps you should go bother another dragon.”

“I don’t know any other dragons!” Bokuto exclaims in frustration.

Akaashi heaves a sigh. “Then perhaps you should settle for any one of my fine amulets.”

“No amulets.” 

“Have you stopped to consider where I would even display your shield, were I to accept your offer?”

Bokuto looks around the shop. He hasn’t taken much of a gander, having come directly to the counter both days he’s been here so far. There’s an entire wall full of swords, each hung neatly parallel to the next, each with a price tag hanging from its handle. Nearby, a display of shields, all considerably smaller than his own. A glass display case houses the amulets alongside rings and earrings, presumably also enchanted. A wall full of built-in bookshelves contains books of all shapes and sizes. Everywhere Bokuto looks, there are more and more items. It’s actually kind of a wonder he didn’t knock into any of them on his way in; he’s a broad guy.

“You don’t have, like, a flea market booth?” Bokuto questions.

Akaashi chuckles for the first time, and it fills Bokuto with so much joy that he immediately wants to draw it out of him again. “I’m afraid not, Bokuto-san, but good thinking.”

“What about a combination of the shield and a lot of money?”

Akaashi shakes his head, closing his thumb in his book again. “Bokuto-san, if you manage to find something I am actually interested in, I would be willing to consider a trade of one of my scales. But I assure you, I have no interest in any monetary trade, and I very much doubt any of your hard-won treasures from journeys past would be suitable for sale here.”

Somehow, despite Akaashi admitting that there is a way to obtain what he needs, he feels even more defeated than before. If he doesn’t want money, and he doesn’t want treasure, what could he possibly want?

“Aren’t dragons supposed to be into hoarding things or whatever?” Bokuto questions.

Akaashi gestures broadly with the book. “Hoards are always evolving, yes? In a way, every item in this shop is part of my hoard.”

“So wouldn’t you want to add to it with the shield?”

“At the cost of giving up something so personal? No.” His face softens, just a bit. “Perhaps you should switch to a form of fighting that allows you to use the protection you already have.”

Bokuto purses his lips in thought. “I’m gonna go look for something. Can I leave the shield here?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Of course. Take your time and look as long as you need, Bokuto-san.”

When Bokuto leaves that day, he has to take the shield back out to his trunk, where it barely fits beside Kuroo’s gym bag. Once he’s dragged his friend out of the bar and they’ve returned to their apartment, Bokuto settles in on the couch and thumbs through the book he’d purchased.

“ _ Life and Habits of Modern Dragons _ , huh?” Kuroo asks, settling on the far end with his laptop and headset. “Don’t tell me you’re getting invested in the shopkeeper.”

“What are you talking about?” Bokuto asks without looking up. “Just trying to figure out what to trade him.”

“It’s a business deal,” Kuroo reminds him gently. He pats Bokuto’s calf. “And he’s a dragon. Very shrewd and calculating. He doesn’t care about you.”

“Of course not,” Bokuto says, waving him off.

He doesn’t hear Kuroo’s answering sigh.

***

WEDNESDAY:

_ Some dragons prefer to deal in non-physical valuables _ , says the tenth chapter of his bedtime reading. _ Such a dragon might hoard time, space, or other intangibles. _

Bokuto rubs at his eyes and blearily surveys the clock on his phone. It’s just past nine in the morning and he hasn’t actually slept yet, too busy trying to solve his protection problem. If Akaashi is the sort of dragon the book is describing—and it seems he is, since he specifically said not to bring any more treasures—maybe he’d prefer something like a favor.

He’s out of bed before he can properly process what he’s doing. He hops through the shower, scrubbing at his face in an attempt to wake up while his mind turns over and over. He doesn’t have any sort of offer fully formed yet, but he feels confident it will come to him.

He waves at Kuroo on his way out the door, and it’s Kuroo’s call of “Bo—take a coat, it’s cold out!” that makes Bokuto stop and realize he’s in a t-shirt and shorts. He grabs the plaid jacket that lives on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“You know better than to go out without a jacket on while you’re still healing,” Kuroo admonishes.

“Wasn’t thinking about it. Whose is this, anyway?” Bokuto asks, shrugging the jacket on. It’s big on both of them, comfortable and loose.

Kuroo shrugs. “Always figured it was yours.”

“I don’t remember buying it,” Bokuto says, furrowing his brows. “Okay, well. I’ll see you later.”

“Are you going to see the dragon again?” Kuroo asks. 

Bokuto turns, scrambling to keep his face neutral. “Yeah.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “Just remember what I told you, okay? Be careful.”

Bokuto salutes him. “You got it, boss.”

He gets an eye roll for his trouble, which sends him out the door with a smile. 

*

When he enters Akaashi’s Antiquities and Artifacts a few minutes later and Akaashi looks up at him, his brows furrow.

“You look exhausted,” he says, half-admonishing, as Bokuto crosses over to the counter.

“I didn’t sleep,” Bokuto confesses.

Akaashi’s frown deepens. “Tell me you weren’t up all night reading that book.”

“Do dragons have some sort of built-in lie detector?”

“No.”

“Then definitely not.”

Akaashi sighs, and the ghost of a smile crosses his face. Bokuto has the thought that today’s grey sweater brings out the blue in his eyes. “Well, I hope your evening was educational, at least.”

“I learned that dragons don’t have built-in lie detectors,” Bokuto says with a grin. He leans over, elbows on the counter and chin in his hand. “And lots of other stuff. Like I didn’t know you could hoard people.”

“It’s frowned upon these days.”

“Yeah, the book said that too. Too cultish.”

“We do try to keep our reputations intact.”

“And I learned that some dragons don’t hoard items at all.” Bokuto narrows his eyes, trying to remember the exact phrasing. “Something about time or space or other intangible things.”

Akaashi gives him a nod. “Some dragons, yes.”

“So...something like my strength might work to convince a dragon like that to trade a scale to me.”

“Theoretically, I suppose, although your strength holds no interest for me.”

Bokuto’s bottom lip pouts out in a deep frown. “Akaaaaashi.”

“Have you realized you’re standing just beside a stool, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto had not. He sits on it and lowers his chin to the counter. 

“Your strength holds no interest for me not because it is nothing compared to my own, although in truth, it is nothing compared to my own.”

“Akaaaaaaashi.”

“Your strength holds no interest to me because you wouldn’t have it any more. I don’t take needlessly, Bokuto-san. I would rather trade for something that benefits us both.”

Bokuto sighs. “Well. I wasn’t offering my strength, anyway.”

“I rather thought you weren’t.” Bokuto gets the distinct feeling he’s holding back a laugh.

He turns his eyes up to the dragon. What could Akaashi use that he could offer? Is there something he’s not using? Something he could easily replace? 

“I don’t suppose you’re interested in offering me a hint?” he asks.

Akaashi reaches over to pat his forearm. The gesture seems to surprise Akaashi himself as much as it surprises Bokuto, who lifts his head off his arms. Akaashi stares down at his own hand.

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what to tell you,” he says quietly. “I won’t know the offer’s right until you offer it.”

Slowly, he takes his hand back to his side of the counter, where he laces it together with the other and sets both in his lap. Bokuto stares at his long fingers and thinks about how soft they felt against his skin. It’s strange, because he would have thought a dragon would be tough all over. In human form, it seems, he’s just as delicate as anyone.

“There’s nothing you need?” Bokuto questions. “Nothing you want?”

Akaashi’s eyes soften. “You are very considerate.”

“It should be an even trade, right?” Bokuto says. “I know I’m asking a lot, so I should give a lot in return. And I know I want it really badly, so it should be something you want really badly.”

Akaashi regards him for a long moment. It’s getting a little easier to read him, but this look is indecipherable. There’s a faint curve to his lips and his head is slightly cocked to one side; he seems to consider several answers before he speaks again.

“When you grow to my age, it’s hard to want for anything,” he says. “And certainly nothing temporary.”

Bokuto nods. “Am I allowed to ask how old you are?”

Akaashi chuckles. “You may ask, but I will not answer. Suffice it to say, I am much, much older than you.”

“Were you or were you not alive when the accords were struck?”

Akaashi’s eyes sparkle. He doesn’t respond. Bokuto huffs.

“Fine. I’m just gonna assume you were around and eating people left and right before then.”

“If I were eating people left and right now, I assure you, you would have no idea until it was too late.”

“I don’t think that’s as comforting as you meant it to be.”

“I did not intend it to be comforting.”

“You’re not going to eat me, are you, Akaashi?” asks Bokuto with a grin.

“At this moment, you may rest easy knowing I don’t plan to eat you. But dragons are fickle creatures, so I suggest you be wary.”

Bokuto laughs, hard enough that he has to bend over and clutch at the pain in his side. He never used to get stitches in his side. “You got it, Akaashi.”

Akaashi offers him his warmest smile yet. “So what is your offer for today, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto purses his lips. He still hasn’t actually come up with anything. “How about my voice?” he suggests half-heartedly. “That would qualify, right?”

“And what would I do with your voice?”

Bokuto shrugs. “That’s not really my part of the trade. You can throw it and scare burglars away from the shop.”

Akaashi looks like he’s fighting away laughter. “Shall I remind you that I am a dragon and that I would need only to partially transform to frighten a burglar much more effectively than a disembodied voice would?”

“Party trick, then.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. His lips are twitching. “I think you should go home and get some sleep. Return tomorrow when you are of sounder mind, and we can negotiate then.”

A yawn chooses that moment to erupt from Bokuto’s lips. He stretches his arms above his head, ignoring the twinge of protest from his side. “Yeah, s’pose you’re right.”

“You should really be wearing a warmer jacket, too.”

Bokuto shoves his hands into the pocket of the flannel. “It’s warmer than it looks. Hey, we got through our whole conversation today without you threatening to kick me out! Great job.”

“There is still time before you leave.”

Bokuto laughs. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, Akaashi.”

This time, when Akaashi reaches over to lay his fingers atop Bokuto’s, it is intentional. Bokuto knows, because he sees the deep breath Akaashi takes just before he does it. Bokuto matches it without thinking.

“Get some rest, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. His voice is warm and soft. It makes Bokuto think about a cake, just cool enough to eat but still fresh from the oven. 

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, and he thinks that if it will make Akaashi smile again, he would do just about anything.

***

THURSDAY:

Despite Kuroo’s warnings, Bokuto is afraid he’s getting quite attached to Akaashi.

Because like, it’s definitely still about the business transaction. The colder it gets, the worse the fading wound in his side hurts in the morning. The need for the scale is still at the forefront of his mind.

But right behind that little matter, and nagging at him when he’s not thinking about the scale, is the vision of Akaashi’s smile. The sound of Akaashi’s laugh. The feeling of Akaashi’s fingers atop his own. The distractions aren’t keeping him from worrying about the trade, but they haunt the moments in between considering what he’ll offer and make a smile grow on his face as he’s falling asleep and waking up.

He has to shake it off. He has the strength enough for that, at the very least.

He makes it a point to wear something more reasonable that morning, in part because he knows Kuroo will badger him if he tries to pull a shorts and shirt combo like he did yesterday, and in part because he thinks about the gentle way Akaashi admonished him for the same. Between the two of them, he thinks to himself, he just might have a chance of dressing appropriately for any weather.

Akaashi seems to approve, nodding as Bokuto walks into the shop. His own sweater today is solid black, but he’s added a gray scarf to cover his neck and he is, surprisingly, in a pair of jeans.

“Good morning, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. 

“Akaashi! You look so casual!” Bokuto exclaims as he crosses the store.

Akaashi smiles. “I assume you mean that as a compliment.”

Bokuto settles on his stool and smiles brightly at Akaashi. “Of course I do. You look great!”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi ducks down beneath the counter. “Did you rest well last night?”

“Like a rock,” Bokuto assures him. “Hey, Akaashi. Why is it that no one else has been in here at the same time as me all week?” He looks around the shop, half-expecting someone to walk in.

Akaashi looks up at the door, which remains as inactive as it has all week. “Anyone who comes here is in need of something,” he says slowly. “It’s not the sort of shop that you browse casually.”

Bokuto considers this. He supposes it’s true of himself as well. “That can’t be good for business, can it?”

“I’ve owned this building for two hundred years. It’s well paid off by now.”

“Fair enough.”

“Actually, that gives me an idea,” Bokuto says thoughtfully. “What if I gave you a year off my life?” Bokuto suggests. “You could do a lot with a year.”

Akaashi smiles at him, the one he’s starting to recognize is his genuine smile, with just a hint of curve to his lip and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. “Bokuto-san, the goal of the scale is to protect you, not end your life prematurely. And given my considerable age, one year is hardly of consequence to me.”

Bokuto sighs and sinks into the counter. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

There’s a silence, and as it stretches out, Bokuto looks up at Akaashi, who’s surveying him with pursed lips and a pinched expression.

“What?” Bokuto asks, suspicious.

Akaashi opens and shuts his mouth a few times. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why now?”

Bokuto cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“You have been a warrior for many years, correct?”

“Uh, ten or so, I think. I’m not really counting.”

Akaashi nods. “So why are you just now seeking this great protection? Surely it would have been of use to you in Karasuno, fighting the guardian whomever, or in any one of your previous quests. Did something happen to you?”

Bokuto blinks. Behind his eyelids flash the now-familiar scenes—the eerie darkness over the land, the claws descending on him from above, the wings surrounding him, enclosing him. Other senses catch up, and he hears the terrible scream of the monster, feels the pain in his side, splitting him open.

“Yes,” he says quietly, and he wrenches his eyes open again to see Akaashi peering at him with concern. “I was attacked. Manticore, I think, although I never actually saw the whole thing.”

Akaashi inhales sharply. “Very few survive Manticore attacks.”

“I know.” He stands and lifts his shirt, showing off the gnarly scar, still mottled with purple and green bruising. “Luckily I wasn’t far from town when it got me, and I’d been on the phone with Kuroo—my roommate. He heard the whole thing and called for help.”

Akaashi swallows. His eyes still bore into the old hole in Bokuto’s side. “There’s still something to be said for your constitution,” he murmurs. “A lesser man might have perished on the spot.”

Bokuto drops his shirt and sits back down, and Akaashi’s gaze darts to the side. “So, yeah. Wearing an amulet is great, but I don’t think it’ll save me from another attack like that.”

“You think it would come back for you?”

“It’s definitely possible. The way I heard it, it was scared off by the amount of people that came for it. So if it decided it wanted to finish the job...” 

Akaashi nods slowly. “And since there’s no way to know when it might happen, you cannot simply drink a potion for the buff.”

“Right.”

Akaashi exhales, long and slow. “I understand your fear now. Forgive me for being so callous before.”

Bokuto waves him off. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t love talking about it.”

“That is understandable.”

Silence stretches between them, heavy and overbearing. For a long minute, Akaashi looks like he’s on the edge of saying something, but he never does. Bokuto shifts and squirms on his stool.

“Do you think I’ll ever figure it out?” he asks, resting his chin on the counter. “Or are you going to get tired of hearing my attempts?”

Akaashi’s cheeks get unexpectedly pink, and he turns away, moving to the end of the counter and tidying the few items that sit there. “I am willing to hear as many offers as you need to make, Bokuto-san. You are welcome in my shop any time you desire to be here.”

Bokuto grins. “Well that’s a big change from the beginning of the week.”

Akaashi hums his assent. His long fingers run over the handle of a magnifying glass. “You are...very different from what I expected.”

“Good different, I hope.”

Finally, Akaashi looks back up at him. There is a soft smile on his face. “Yes. Good different.”

He and Bokuto gaze at each other for a moment. Just as Bokuto is starting to feel his face heat, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Ah, shit, I forgot I have an appointment today,” Bokuto says, hopping up. “Good thing Kuroo’s on top of my calendar. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Bokuto turns to head out of the shop, firing off an answer to Kuroo.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi calls. “Please wait a moment.”

Bokuto turns to see Akaashi hurrying out from behind the counter. He stops at the glass cabinet full of jewelry, and Bokuto watches as he unlocks it and grabs something from inside. He appears at Bokuto's side.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the object into Bokuto's hands. Bokuto finds himself holding a silver ring with a stone of obsidian. “This ring will help you. It's been blessed with healing magic.”

Bokuto swallows hard. “I'm mostly all healed up,” he mumbles. “It just looks bad because of the bruises.”

“What I mean to say is, it will accelerate your mental healing,” Akaashi breathes. His voice has gone quiet, hushed even in the hush of the shop. “You have flashbacks of the attack, don't you? Nightmares.”

Bokuto hopes Akaashi doesn't notice he's shaking. “How did you know?”

“I could see it in your eyes. When you were talking about the manticore.” Akaashi bows his head. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It's fine,” Bokuto manages. He slips the ring onto his thumb. It fits perfectly. He wonders if that's part of the magic. “How much do I owe you?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Consider it a gift for all the trouble I've put you through this week.”

“It's been no trouble at all,” Bokuto answers quickly.

Akaashi meets his eyes. “I'll see you tomorrow, Bokuto-san.”

He turns and retreats to the counter. Bokuto exits the shop with his fingers drumming against the cool stone.

***

FRIDAY:

Bokuto stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom. It doesn’t hold any more answers than the book laying open on his chest or the phone just out of reach of his hand. Akaashi had assured him there was  _ something _ he could offer that would entice him to give up a scale, but he’s completely out of ideas.

Thanks to the ring, he slept better last night than he has in months. No nightmares haunted him; in fact, he doesn’t remember his dreams at all, beyond the pervasive feeling that he was being held tightly in someone’s arms. 

Nevertheless, his head is still empty as to what to offer Akaashi today. Despite what he said yesterday, Bokuto feels like he’s reaching the end of his rope. If he doesn’t find something soon, he suspects he won’t find something at all. 

He groans loudly and rolls over, dislodging the book as he shoves his face into the pillow. 

“That’s an ugly noise,” Kuroo observes.

Bokuto lifts his head. His friend is leaning against the doorframe, his brows raised and his arms crossed over his chest. Bokuto gestures at the book.

“I’m never gonna get the scale,” he moans. “I have nothing to offer.”

“Alright, well we both know that’s not true.” Kuroo enters and sits on the edge of Bokuto’s bed. 

Bokuto flips back onto his back and huffs. “Okay, then, you come up with something, because I’m out of ideas.”

“Let’s make a list,” Kuroo suggests. He grabs a notebook from the side table and flips it open, clicking a pen and poising it above the page. “What are things you value about yourself?”

“My strength,” Bokuto answers immediately. “But he’s already shot that down.”

“That’s not the only good thing about you.”

“It’s the best thing about me.”

“What about a more specific part of your strength?” Kuroo says, scribbling on the page. “Like your swordfighting ability, or your lightness on your feet.”

“Is there any point staying a warrior if I don’t have those things?”

“Hm, I guess you’re right.” Kuroo writes something else. “There’s a lot of great things about you that have nothing to do with fighting. What about how smart you are?”

Bokuto narrows his eyes at him. “I nearly flunked the written exams at academy.”

“But you passed all the physical ones with flying colors. That’s a sort of intelligence, too.”

Bokuto shrugs. “I guess.”

“Bokuto.” Kuroo reaches out a hand and sets it on Bokuto’s knee. “I know not being able to fight is hard for you, but you’re just as great a person off the battlefield as you are on it. Part of what makes you such a good warrior is your heart, you know? You’re brave and kind and endlessly generous. Those are all important qualities for a warrior, and you have them more than anyone else I know.”

Bokuto muses over the words, prepared to argue, but then he sits bolt upright. “That’s it, Kuroo.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “What’s it?”

“I know what to offer Akaashi.” 

He throws himself out of bed and over to his closet, getting dressed as quickly as he can manage while Kuroo watches him warily.

“You’re not gonna do anything stupid, are you?”

Bokuto turns with a grin. “You’re the one who just said how smart I am.”

“You are, but you’re also prone to rash decisions.”

“This isn’t rash,” Bokuto assures him. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Kuroo sighs and shakes his head as Bokuto pulls a hoodie down over his head. “Just be careful.”

“I will.” Bokuto returns to the bed for a moment, sitting beside Kuroo. “Hey. I just want to thank you again for staying with me while I’ve been recovering. It means a lot.”

Kuroo huffs and looks away. “Idiot. I’m your best friend, where else would I be when you need me?”

Bokuto tugs him into a hug. “Thanks, Tetsurou. You’re the best.”

Kuroo squeezes him once before letting go. “Keep that in mind the next time I need something, alright?”

Bokuto laughs. “Of course. I’ll see you later, man.”

“Make good choices!” Kuroo calls after him as he heads for the door.

Bokuto turns around and makes finger guns at him.

His car probably wasn’t intended to go the speed he drives it at on his way to the Akaashi’s Antiquities and Artifacts, but he figures it’s okay to put it through its paces every once in a while, like any noble steed. The ivy covered sign is the same it’s been all week, staring at him inconspicuously from between the electronics store and the siren bar. He takes a deep breath as he steps out of his car and crosses the parking lot for what might be the last time. He pauses for half a moment with his hand on the door, sending up one last prayer to the gods just before he wrenches it open.

“I’ve figured it out,” Bokuto says with his foot halfway in the door.

Akaashi doesn’t have the book in his hands today. He’s already looking up at the door, like he was waiting for Bokuto’s arrival. “Hello, Bokuto-san.”

“You don’t want anything temporary,” Bokuto says, walking across the store. Every step feels like it takes an eternity; all he wants is to be in front of Akaashi, to look into those deep blue eyes and see the truth in them. “You don’t want anything physical. You don’t want anything unfair for you to take. And it has to be something good, something worth the trade.”

Akaashi inclines his head. His sweater today is a dark grey. “I’m glad you’ve been listening to me.”

Bokuto finally stops at the counter. He doesn’t sit today, and at the look on his face, Akaashi stands, too. “A-Akaashi,” he stumbles, suddenly nervous. His heart is pounding against his ribcage like it hasn’t since the beginning of the week. “Can I ask you a question before I make my offer?”

“You may ask, Bokuto-san, but as usual I reserve the right to not answer if I so choose.”

Bokuto nods. “Have you...have you enjoyed spending time with me this week? When I’ve come in and talked to you?”

Akaashi smiles softly, and he looks down and away. “At first, I wanted nothing to do with you. You are not the first warrior who has come to request one of my scales, but you are the first who has attempted to negotiate on my terms.” He fiddles with the end of his sweater sleeve, tugging it down over his wrist. “You are the first who has tried to learn me in any way. It has been a long time since I was able to share myself with anyone. It was...frightening, at first. I am not accustomed to vulnerability. But you are a genuine man, Bokuto-san. I knew that from the moment you walked in.”

Bokuto stares at him, breath bated. Akaashi meets his eyes again.

“In short, yes. I have enjoyed spending time with you. And I fear I will quite miss your company when our business transaction has been completed.”

Bokuto swallows, trying to force his voice past the lump in his throat. “What if...what if we didn’t have to stop seeing each other?”

Akaashi’s brows furrow. “What do you propose?”

Bokuto stands ramrod straight and summons all his courage. He places a fist over his heart. “In exchange for a single one of your scales, I, Bokuto Koutarou, offer you my heart.”

Akaashi blinks. Bokuto tries to remember to breathe.

“Your heart?” Akaashi whispers.

Bokuto nods. “It’s useful,” he says quickly. “It has a lot of love in it. A lot of compassion. It feels things too much sometimes, but it’s a pretty good heart, all things considered. It’s all in one piece.”

Akaashi bites his lip. “You don’t know what you offer, Bokuto-san.”

“I do. I read the book, remember?” Bokuto insists. “Dragons mate for life, right? They’re fiercely protective of their mates and are known to require great amounts of physical affection.”

Akaashi sits heavily on his stool. “Bokuto-san…I…I don’t know.”

Bokuto moves to the end of the counter and holds open the little door. When Akaashi doesn’t say anything, he enters his space, crossing to the shopkeeper’s side. He crouches down and takes Akaashi’s hands in his own. He’s taken, again, by their softness, their gentility. 

“I don’t have anything better to offer,” he says. “If you don’t want this trade, I will leave you alone and find protection elsewhere. But I don’t…” He closes his eyes, squeezing Akaashi’s hands. “I don’t want anyone else’s protection. I don’t want a scale from anyone else. I know we barely know each other, but I want to know you. I want to give my heart to you.”

When he opens his eyes again, Akaashi is looking down at him. There’s trepidation written into his features: the lip that he’s still worrying between his teeth, the wrinkle between his brows. But his eyes are clear and soft and tell Bokuto everything he needs to know. He brings Akaashi’s hands to his lips and places a soft kiss against the back of one of them.

“Please accept this trade,” he whispers against Akaashi’s skin.

Akaashi finally moves, separating his hands and grasping Bokuto’s face. He runs his thumbs over Bokuto’s cheekbones, each of his brows, his jawline. Bokuto closes his eyes and holds his breath, letting Akaashi’s hands wander over his face, letting him explore the features he’s only known by sight until now. He could stay here forever, he thinks as he hears Akaashi exhale shakily. He could let Akaashi hold him—he could hold Akaashi—for the rest of his life.

“I’m afraid I still can’t give you one of my scales,” Akaashi breathes. 

Bokuto feels the world come crashing down around him. Akaashi still cups his face, but his heart and lungs are buried under an avalanche of disappointment. “Akaashi?” he questions. “Why?”

Akaashi leans down, closing the gap between them in an achingly slow movement. Bokuto gasps when their foreheads touch.

“If you are willing to give me your heart, the only fair trade is my own in return,” Akaashi whispers. Bokuto can count every one of his long lashes from here. “You will have no need for a single scale, because you will have the full force of my protection wherever you go.”

Bokuto is reminded vigorously of the first day he’d stepped into Akaashi’s shop, of the breaths they’d shared then, nearly as close as they are now. It had been only moments later that he’d noticed Akaashi’s scales for the first time, and only moments after that that Akaashi had kicked him out. Now, he brings a hand to Akaashi’s neck and carefully pushes the layer of fabric that covers his skin out of the way. Beneath his fingers, the scales are hard and cold, and he marvels at them, at their beauty, their sheen.

“Bokuto-san…” Akaashi murmurs.

Bokuto can’t hesitate any more, can’t bear another moment in a world where he hasn’t kissed Akaashi, so he surges forward and seals their lips together. Akaashi tastes like iron in his mouth and he’s cold, so much colder than Bokuto expects, and he can’t help but wrap his arms around the dragon’s waist and hold him close. After a moment, Akaashi loops his arms around Bokuto’s neck.

“Can’t you breathe fire?” Bokuto breathes when they break apart. “You’re freezing, it doesn’t make any sense—”

“I can’t breathe fire in this form, Bokuto-san.”

“Koutarou.”

Akaashi’s eyes close, and he smiles, and it takes Bokuto’s breath away. “Koutarou.”

“Oh, I gotta make the right offer!” Bokuto exclaims. He worms his hand between their bodies so he can once again make a fist over his heart. “In exchange for your heart, I, Bokuto Koutarou, offer you my heart. Do you accept this trade?”

Akaashi cups his face again. “I, Akaashi Keiji, accept your heart in exchange for my own. Let it be so.”

Binding marks wrap around each of their wrists, searing themselves into their skin. In a few days, they'll heal to a faint pink, barely visible from far away. For now, the bright red magic is stark against Akaashi's pale skin. Bokuto takes his wrist and kisses the inside of it.

For the first time all week, the door opens, and a tall blond man enters, his shoulders hunched.

Akaashi steps just apart from Bokuto but links their hands at his side. “Welcome, traveller,” he says, catching the blond's attention. “Do you require assistance today?”

**Author's Note:**

> socials can be found [here](https://joshllyman.carrd.co)


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